<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>first the raven, then the dove by poalimal</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338105">first the raven, then the dove</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal'>poalimal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Natural Disaster, Alternate Universe - Magic, Body Modification, Chronic Pain, Fic in the Time of Quarantine, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Music, mild body horror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:02:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd heard that Overwatch had gotten its hands on a witch.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Reaper | Gabriel Reyes &amp; Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Lúcio Correia dos Santos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>first the raven, then the dove</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Four days they spent atop the mountain - on the morning of the fifth, Reaper sent out an owl, though it pained him to produce one. The musician had not eaten in days, but Reaper had not eaten in weeks; and though he was tired, and thirsty, and leaking somewhere near his ankle, he dredged up an owl, and sent it down the mountain.</p><p>The musician watched him when he left the cave, and he watched him when he returned, owl in hand and soon again in his arm. </p><p>'<em>One day you'll fly away</em>,' he said. Reaper could not tell if he had meant to speak aloud, or if he still thought he was asleep.</p><p>'Get up,' said Reaper, in English. 'The water's gone down - the path is clear.'</p><p>'Mm-hm,' said the musician, turning on his side. The bandages round his head dotted blood again, but could not be replaced. The musician spoke once more in Portuguese - he seemed to fall asleep.</p><p>Reaper leaned down over him, removed a glove, and felt the part of his forehead that was not bound. Too hot. </p><p>The musician rolled toward him. His eyes opened, he seemed to see Reaper - he began to sing. </p><p>All the bones in Reaper's left hand shivered - for one strange moment, the light in the cave made it seem as though his hand were whole again, deep brown and full.</p><p>Reaper stood quickly, his heart pounding; he went again to the entrance of the cave. His hand looked as it had always: mottled pale, grey, and melted, twitching from nanite over-attention if he stared too long. </p><p>It had just been an illusion. Of course.</p><p>The musician seemed more lucid when Reaper returned to him. 'I am sorry,' he said in English, 'I just don't have enough. If I did--, if I did--' </p><p>His eyes rolled back; he went still.</p><p>Reaper carried him down the mountain. The path was not meant for two people, even if one of them was carrying the other: he nearly dropped the musician several times. One of his skates actually did fall, but Reaper knew that if he stopped to retrieve it, he would not have the energy to continue. Someone else would have to come back for it.</p><p>The musician's dreads came loose somehow and spilled across Reaper's neck. After a while he stirred, and, at length, began to mumble and sing. </p><p>Delirium. It did not bother Reaper much - he did not say anything. It gave him something to focus on. </p><p>He did not notice his steps getting lighter. He did not see the way the skin of his face and neck changed. He kept his head down, tightened his grip on his companion, and continued on down the mountain.</p><p>Soon enough the path widened out into sturdy stone stairs, stretching down toward the old temple, and beyond that, further to the town. The temple was almost totally destroyed, he saw. He had never been religious, particularly, or even respectful. There was no reason to stop and stare at all the rubble. </p><p>No reason at all.</p><p>The musician began humming again - the sun too hot overhead - the forest dripped, and exhaled heat. Reaper continued down the stairs. </p><p>Birds began to tease him, as they often did, treepie and laughingthrush on dripping branch flying after him in song. He whistled at them shakily - they sung still more insistent. </p><p>Sweat slid down his forehead. He had to pause to catch his breath. His head began to throb.</p><p>'Xô, passarinho,' the musician sang, 'xô, passarinho.' The birds flew away.</p><p>Down the stairs they continued. Reaper could feel his strength flagging. The musician's voice was a whisper, now - in Reaper's arms, he felt limp. </p><p>Somehow they reached the very bottom of the stairs - beneath the broken temple gate, a woman in white military garb approached them, two armed men in muddy blue camo flanking her from behind. The woman held up a hand to stop him, a wary look on her face; she began speaking to him, and gesturing sharply.</p><p>Reaper's Vietnamese was very rusty. He'd planned to at least be in Pingxiang by now. '<em>Help</em>,' he tried anyway, '<em>he needs help</em>.'</p><p>The musician was silent now. '<em>Help</em>,' Reaper said again. His face felt like it was melting. The woman looked at him in alarm - the men raised their guns.</p><p>Reaper lost his strength. The world slid away. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Reaper awoke dreamily, a golden buzz above his head. He did not hunger or hurt. He heard humming - he heard a beeping noise.</p><p>He turned to the right of him, following the sound: he saw the heart rate monitor and the IV - he saw the uniformed woman sitting in front of the window, cross-armed and still. But for the city lights spread before him, the outside world was dark. How much time had passed? Reaper turned to the left: he saw the musician in a hospital gown and shoulder sling, humming and pulling a pair of handcuffs free from Reaper's wrist so they hung down from the railing. Beyond him, the door to the room was closed.</p><p>He looked up and noticed Reaper staring; he broke into a smile.</p><p>'Oh, hey!' said the musician. He had stitches across his forehead. He did not seem terribly concerned about the cop. 'Glad to see you're awake - you should probably leave soon.'</p><p>Reaper found it difficult to look him in the face somehow. Instead he looked down at his hand, where they had touched: he stared with growing astonishment at his wrists, his palms, his fingers and arms - he pulled back the sheets - his legs, all dark and brown again. Up his hands reached, and Reaper touched his cheeks and face. There were no pockmarks, no pale growths, no holes of shifting bone and muscle - no dripping matter, no drifting smoke.</p><p>And throughout his whole body, he felt no pain.</p><p>'You did this,' Reaper said, gritting his teeth. He had to fight against the joy, the disbelief that wanted to rise up within him. There had to be a catch, somewhere - there was always a catch.</p><p>The musician shrugged, and scratched his shoulder. He looked, for the first time since Reaper had met him, somewhat uncomfortable.</p><p>Reaper swallowed, and looked down at his palms. He tried to phase his hands through each other - he felt the nanites murmur within his blood - and instead clapped. Hm. '--Is it permanent?' </p><p>The musician was silent for so long that Reaper looked up at him again. 'Not... not yet,' he said.</p><p>And there it was. 'And let me guess,' Reaper said bitterly, 'all I have to do is renounce Talon--'</p><p>'No,' the musician said simply. Reaper stared. 'You don't. You didn't make me do anything when you saved me. And I am the one who tried to force a fight before a tsunami. So... it is not permanent yet - but I will figure out a way.'</p><p>His eyes, Reaper saw, were very warm. </p><p>'That's all well and good for later,' Reaper said, after a pause, not believing him at all. 'What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to get out of here safely?' He'd planned for a covert mission into New Hainan, not what would promise to be a fairly obvious and potentially bloody exit attempt outta some upscale hospital somewhere in Vietnam.</p><p>'Ah... there is a helicopter coming for me, maybe in half an hour? A lot of people need my help,' the musician was saying. 'I can make it so people don't notice you're there... then you can just-- leave with me?'</p><p>Reaper huffed out a laugh without meaning to. Ridiculous. He'd be better off waking up the cop and politely asking her to escort him out. 'Sure you wouldn't lose track of me?'</p><p>The musician blinked at him - with his free arm, he reached out and caught Reaper's hand. </p><p>'But I sang to your bones,' he said. 'There is nowhere you can go that I will not find you.'</p><p>Reaper's whole body shivered - he pulled his hand back, heart pounding wild. The musician's eyes sharpened - for a moment, Reaper imagined that he could hear his heartbeat.</p><p>But that would be absurd. Anyway, he was getting ahead of himself. The true extent of the musician's powers remained to be seen. It would probably be safer to just swipe the cop's gun while she was sleeping and make a run for it when he got the chance. He'd done a lot more with a lot less.</p><p>'Alright then, pop star,' Reaper said. 'We'll do that, then.'</p><p>The musician tilted his head. 'You said my name before - you don't know it?' he said. 'You were trying to get me to stay awake. You said my name, and sung one of my songs.' He smiled. 'I really loved your voice.'</p><p>It wasn't even a believable lie. Reaper's vocal chords had been shredded and burned for many years now - he couldn't sing at all anymore. He'd only done it-- well, he didn't know why he'd done it. He hadn't actually thought the musician would remember, let alone remember and try to lie about it. </p><p>'<em>O começo</em> is about birth and re-growth. It is a joyful song,' the musician continued, 'but you make me want to cry, when I hear you. It is very lovely, your voice - very raw.'</p><p>Oh. Well. Reaper shrugged, growing itchy with attention. 'I... can't really hit high notes.'</p><p>'Oh, that does not matter. Would you sing again for me?' the musician said. 'Please?' Oh, what the fuck.</p><p>'No,' said Reaper.</p><p>'No?' said the musician.</p><p>'<em>No</em>,' said Reaper, through gritted teeth. '--I'd actually like a few minutes, please? Just to rest my eyes. It's... been a long week.'</p><p>'Oh, no, of course!' said the musician, quickly heading for the door. 'You rest now, and I will retrieve you when the helicopter arrives.' Tch. 'If you need me, just say my name. I will hear you, and come.'</p><p>He would definitely not be doing that. 'Fine,' Reaper grunted.</p><p>'Go ahead,' said the musician, paused by the door. 'Say my name.' Reaper blinked. The musician smiled brightly. 'I know you know it!'</p><p>Ugh. It would be faster just to humour him. Reaper bit back a scowl. '--Lúcio,' he said sourly. His left hand seemed to tingle - he did not make any outward indication that it did so.</p><p>'Oh, good! So you can be flexible,' said Lúcio, grinning widely. Reaper narrowed his eyes. What would he know about <em>flexibility</em>. 'So then - I will leave you to your--' his eyes flicked tellingly to the sleeping cop; his smile widened '--rest.'</p><p>Oh, he knew. Reaper didn't know how, but Lúcio definitely knew what he had planned.</p><p>'Alright,' said Reaper. His heart beat double time. Lúcio opened the door. 'Guess I'll see you in half an hour, then.'</p><p>Lúcio turned, and looked at him again. 'Oh, I will see you very soon,' he said, all his teeth in his smile. He shut the door behind him - for a moment, it seemed like he took all the sound in the room with him. The heart monitor began to beep again, then; the cop began to snore.</p><p>Well, Reaper thought, yanking out his IV and sliding out of bed, that didn't fucking bode well. Out the window, it was.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't find it now but there was a drabble I read, years ago (on tumblr?), that ended with Lúcio saying to an injured Gabriel: <i>It may not seem like it now, but I'm going to help you</i>. That's always stuck with me. Another fic I feel must have inspired me: winterwhite's <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166040/chapters/18758849">Kintsugi</a>, which really reconceptualised the way I saw chronic pain and autonomy in Overwatch. </p><p>A few notes:</p><p>- The title references Gen. 8:6-12, in which Noah sends out a dove to see if the floodwaters have receded after he <a href="https://torah.org/torah-portion/mikra-5775-noach/"> sends out a raven</a>.</p><p>- Treepie do sometimes hang out in mixed-species foraging flocks with laughingthrush. Both bird types are present in Vietnam, but I can't say if they've been seen together in coastal Vietnam.</p><p>- 'Xô, passarinho' are the first two words of a fairly morbid children's song in Brasil. Can't speak to its popularity.</p><p>- Under recent climate models, tsunami in Vietnam are currently <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/B9780128000076000137">fairly unlikely</a>. Nevertheless Vietnam has established the Earthquake Information and Tsunami Warning Centre, and is one of the member states of the Pacific Tsunami Warning and Mitigation System.</p><p>- '<a href="https://www.vietnamonline.com/transport/dong-dang---pingxiang-border-crossing.html">Vietnam and China have more than one border gate, but the most famous and busiest one is probably Dong Dang international gate which connects Lang Son, Vietnam and Pingxiang, China.</a>'</p><p>- The details I've included on the different uniforms for the Vietnam People's Navy and the Vietnamese Coast Guard are imprecise.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>